Casey’s mom stopped being a mom for me the instant she emerged from her pool in a black string bikini. I worked with Casey at a financial office. We were both low-level drones, though I never failed to tell women I was “in the financial sector.” Doing so made me sound more important than I was.

I was standing on the smooth concrete apron surrounding the pool at Casey’s mom’s house. His parents were divorced — whose weren’t? — and his mother had most of the family money. Apparently, it had been hers to start, before she’d married Casey’s dad. She was living a lot better than I was.

But at that point, I wasn’t bemoaning my somewhat sorry financial state. My eyes were strained wide, and my senses were fairly reeling as I beheld the glory of that woman... Read More